I am Tired and Everyone is an Idiot

This not too foreign of a feeling -
Just when one finds themselves
Growing strong - fragile, yet resilient
From all that has had to have been withstood
Something comes out of the peripheral
Something seemingly hapless
Yet ultimately feral
Suddenly one sees the light
No longer resides within the Sun
And the most peculiar placement
Of planets, stars, winds and clouds
Suddenly, one comes to realize
That under the light of love - lies melt
And the friend, mother or familiar
Sends the darkness to hell
But here
Each to his own solemn
Solitary confinement
Connected to every body but no one
I reach for my golden apples
Tied up in white chords
I grow tired and the fruits grow bitter